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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26641564">Fall into your blue</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakeycatstakebaths/pseuds/Nakeycatstakebaths'>Nakeycatstakebaths</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clarke and Emori are best friends, Diving, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Minor background bellarke, Murphy and Emori are in love and obsessed with each other because of course they are, Murphy is a swimmer and Emori is a diver, Olympic hopefuls, Olympics, Swimming, college athletes, dummies to lovers, slow burn for a one shot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:55:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,589</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26641564</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakeycatstakebaths/pseuds/Nakeycatstakebaths</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The life of an elite athlete can be lonely, what it takes to get to the top isn’t something most people can handle.</p><p>Murphy and Emori understand that better than anyone.</p><p>Nobody to cheer them on in the stands, or bring them flowers or hug them after at the end of a meet.</p><p>But the fall before the Olympics, they stumble into each other’s lives and learn that even though swimming and diving are individual sports, life is a lot easier when you have someone else to lean on.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Emori/John Murphy (The 100), minor Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fall into your blue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Emori Kom Spacekru deserves the universe. </p><p>Title is taken from the Jon Bellion song BLU because apparently his music always makes me think about memori. </p><p>I was a gymnast, so I don't know anything about diving. Take this at face value lol.</p><p>I hope y'all like this one, I loved writing it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You could just tell her,” Bellamy teased, snapping the back of Murphy’s swim cap. </p><p>“No, I can’t,” he grunted, shoving his friend, “because...the only way that could end is badly.” </p><p>With one last look over his shoulder, Murphy followed Bellamy into the locker room. </p><p>Logically, he knew that Bellamy was right. Emori was just a person, and he was an adult. It should be easy enough. Except that every time she so much as looked at him, his brain drained out of his ear. </p><p>She was just so pretty, even with her hair tucked under the latex swim cap...in fact, she might be even more adorable because of it, and that was a feat. </p><p>“She’s friends with Clarke, I could—“ Bellamy began, turning one of the showers on with a long creak. </p><p>“Don’t even think about it,” Murphy snapped, slamming the shower door behind him. </p><p>Emori was too good, too bright, all broad smiles and crinkled laughter. She didn’t need someone like him distracting her, dampening her future.</p><p>He knew how this all worked. </p><p>In their world, the pool was everything. They all had their eyes on the same goal, the Olympics. </p><p>Trials were in a few months, and there wasn’t any time for distractions. </p><p>Not for him and not for Emori, either. </p><p>His whole future was riding on this. There was no plan B. He knew that she was the other person here on a full ride, the only other one who had nobody cheering for them up in the stands. </p><p>This was just as important to her as it was to him. </p><p>So even if Emori made every fiber of his being sing, he couldn’t do anything about it. </p><p>With a sigh, Murphy scrubbed the chlorine out of his hair, hoping that if he showered fast enough, he might be able to avoid the rest of this conversation. </p><p>He stepped out of the shower, tugging on a well worn ArkU Swimming and Diving hoodie while Bellamy waited on the bench. </p><p>“Success doesn’t come contingent on unhappiness,” Bellamy sighed, not even bothering to look up from his phone. </p><p>“It does when this is the only shot you have in life,” he shrugged, packing up his wet suit. </p><p>“Don’t say shit like that, Murph. It’s depressing as fuck.”  </p><p>Murphy flipped his roommate off, shouldering his bag, and not waiting for Bellamy to follow. </p><p>“Seriously. You’re running yourself ragged. Come out to dinner with Clarke and me, it’ll be a nice break,” he continued, following Murphy out into the sticky evening air. </p><p>“I can’t...gotta get ready for classes tomorrow,” he said, knowing that Bellamy could see through the lie, but he wasn’t feeling up to dinner. </p><p>Right now, he just wanted to sleep...and forget about the fact that he couldn’t be with the only girl he’d ever actually been interested in. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>Murphy made it to his anatomy class two seconds before it started with hair still wet from practice and the faint sting of chlorine on his skin. </p><p>To his shock, Emori was seated in the front row, and she waved at him, gesturing to the empty spot beside her. </p><p>Not wanting to make a scene, he took the seat, smiling sheepishly at the professor as he settled in. </p><p>“Thanks,” he whispered, laying out his things, trying to play it cool. </p><p>She smiled at him, clicking the back of her pen against his bicep as she turned to listen to the professor introduce the course. </p><p>“Do you want one?” he asked, easing two bagels out of his bag. Technically, they were both for him, but...for Emori, he could share. </p><p>Her broad smile faltered a bit as she looked from him to the offered bagel. </p><p>With a short nod, she took it from him, whispering a thanks in return. </p><p>They didn’t talk for the rest of class, but every once in awhile, her elbow would brush his as she jotted down the professor's words. </p><p>Emori was the kind of person who took careful, organized notes. The date etched in the top corner; each topic laid out cleanly. It was a stark contrast to his haphazard color-coding system that didn’t follow anything resembling order. </p><p>He might have to ask her for some studying advice later. Based on the first lecture alone, this class wasn’t going to be easy for him. </p><p>The lecture dragged on for what felt like an eternity as the professor delved right into the first lesson without much fanfare, filling the board with complex diagrams and long Latin words. </p><p>Emori had filled a handful of cleanly laid out pages by the time they were done, while he had used three times as many with his large messy handwriting. </p><p>“That was...intense,” she sighed, drawing her lip between her teeth as she closed her notebook. </p><p>It felt like a relief. </p><p>“I’m really glad you said that because I could barely follow what he was saying,” Murphy chuckled, following suit and packing up his backpack. </p><p>“Yeah, I think I understood every three words or so. It was pretty rough.” </p><p>“Could’ve fooled me! You were so focused in there.” </p><p>Together they collected their things and walked out of the lecture hall. It wasn’t until they were almost outside, that Murphy realized this was the longest conversation he’d ever had with Emori. </p><p>“Where did you get that bagel from, by the way? It was incredible…” she continued, still walking beside him as they crossed the quad. </p><p>Murphy tried to suppress his blush, but he could feel the heat rising to his cheeks all the same. </p><p>“I—I make them,” he shrugged, shoving a hand in the pocket of his sweatshirt. “It’s a great way to unwind and solid carb loading too.” </p><p>Her eyebrows shot up, even though it was apparent she was trying to hide her surprise. </p><p>“Color me impressed John Murphy,” she said, smiling at him so softly that his heart fluttered. </p><p>Nobody called him John. </p><p>Hell, he didn’t even call himself that inside his own head. But something about the way Emori said it. The way her voice curled around the words. It was addicting and heartwarming. He didn’t correct her. It was soft, a quiet thing between the two of them, and he desperately hoped that she would say it again. </p><p>He was playing with fire here. He knew that. Neither of them could do this, not so close to the Olympics. </p><p>But still, he found himself asking her to go over the notes. </p><p>“There’s a coffee shop around the corner?” He said, tilting his head to indicate where he was headed. </p><p>“Sadly, I have biology lab…” she said, voice dropping almost imperceptibly. “But get an extra shot of espresso for me, okay?” </p><p>And with that, she left with a short wave. </p><p>Maybe it was for the best. Perhaps this was the universe’s way of telling him to slow down and get a hold of himself. </p><p>Two months stood between him and the most important day of his life. The last thing he needed was to get caught up in something that would surely consume him. </p><p>Even though they barely knew each other, Murphy sensed that if he let Emori into his world completely, she would become the center of it. </p><p>***</p><p>Emori chewed on her lip as she weaved her hair into two tight French braids. Her fingers were clumsier than usual, catching in her thick brown curls. </p><p>She couldn’t shake the image of John Murphy with his hands stuffed in his pockets, a light blush on his cheeks, sheepishly telling her that he’d made bagels from scratch. </p><p>Just when she’d thought he couldn’t get any more attractive, he had to go and secretly make bread. </p><p>It was unfair, really, that after spending her entire life focused on diving, keeping herself away from distractions, a distraction had to bring himself to the pool. </p><p>For the past two years, she’d been quietly admiring John from afar. </p><p>He was a quieter kind of attractive than the other boys on the swim team: less brute muscle and floppy curls, and more lithe muscles and careful smirks. From the moment she saw him, Emori knew there was nothing she could do to stop her crush. </p><p>But no matter how much she wanted to, telling him was never a possibility. </p><p>Despite the attention he got, John never dated. He was laser-focused, more determined than anyone she’d ever known. It was part of what endeared her to him, that he knew what he wanted in life and would give up anything to get it. </p><p>It made sense.</p><p> It was hard not to notice that he was the only other person who never had anyone cheering them on in the stands—no family forcing him to take cheesy pictures or shoving bouquets of flowers into his arms.</p><p>People like them didn't have room to fail. There was nothing to fall back on. Like her, John gave up everything to be here. </p><p>It was never meant to be. </p><p>There was a good chance that he would never come back to school if they made the Olympics. </p><p>Most people didn’t. </p><p>There was money in being one of the world’s best athletes, brand deals, sponsorships, and announcer jobs. </p><p>And once he left, he would never look back. </p><p>So she’d pushed her feelings down, avoided him for years, kept him at a distance even though every part of her wanted to know him better.</p><p>It was hard. </p><p>Their best friends were dating each other. But she managed okay. </p><p>Until today that is. </p><p>Somehow they’d made it two years without having a class together. And despite all Emori’s restraint, she hadn’t been able to resist offering him the seat beside her. </p><p>And now, she had to live with the fact that he was nice and funny and smart and made bagels in his free time and had endearingly terrible handwriting. </p><p>Entirely through the fault of her own, Emori had made her life more difficult. </p><p>“Can you stretch my arms out? I’m trying to get my back somersault tuck a little cleaner,” Clarke asked, shaking Emori out of her thoughts. </p><p>“You should stretch your obliques if you’re doing that,” she corrected, laying out on the floor to demonstrate. </p><p>Clarke had transitioned from elite gymnastics to diving when she was in high school. She was fast and athletic, with a type of precision that Emori could only dream of. But she sometimes missed the mark when it came to things like conditioning. </p><p>It didn’t really matter. They balanced each other out, Clarke helped her with her flexibility, and Emori taught Clarke the smaller details of diving. </p><p>She was one of the best friends Emori had ever had. </p><p>But for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to tell Clarke about John. It was too personal, too close to home. John was her boyfriend’s roommate. Telling Clarke would make it real, could nudge it into the realm of possibility—or more realistically, it would set her up for disappointment. </p><p>And the thought of that was too much to handle. Emori had already had enough people in her life leave her. She didn’t need to add John Murphy to the list. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>Early morning runs were Emori’s happy place. Cold air, the soft morning light in the cover of darkness, the rubbery scent of the well-worn track. </p><p>She was born for the water, built to swim and dive. It should feel wrong to be on land, but there was a peace to running that diving never really managed to find. </p><p>Water is chaotic, full of movement and noise. There’s desperation when you’re swimming up to the surface, a fight for air. </p><p>Running was similar in that sense, but instead of chaos, it fuels freedom. </p><p>When she was little and angry at the world, this was what she would do. Just her and her body, the body that wasn’t enough for her parents, that was “broken” because of the shape of her hand. </p><p>But her body had done amazing things. </p><p>She’d learned to swim when she was five, determined not to let anyone leave her behind. She fought to be the fastest in her class. By the time she was ten, she was selected for elite diving. Now she was one of the best in the country, despite her hand being a little different. </p><p>She used to be embarrassed by it, wore sleeves and braces to try and cover it. Until she ranked first in the nation her senior year of high school. That was when she realized that she could make a difference. </p><p>She just stopped wrapping it. </p><p>And suddenly, hordes of girls with similar disabilities started to send her pictures and letters, telling her that they wanted to be divers just like her. </p><p>It was part of why she was so determined to win, to prove to the world that she was the best and give someone for kids to look up to. It was something she’d desperately needed as a child and never had the opportunity to have. There was massive responsibility to it, but it would be worth it in the end. </p><p>Emori had long ago left the idea of proving herself to her parents behind. They didn’t matter anymore. They hadn’t wanted her, had left her with her grandfather when she was born and never looked back. If they hadn’t seen the value in her, then they wouldn’t see it now, and it didn’t matter if they did. </p><p>She was proud of herself and proud of her body, knew she was a role model, and capable of representing her country at the Olympics. </p><p>That was what these mornings were for, to clear her head, remind herself of why she does this, remember where she came from, and how proud she was of herself. </p><p>In a few short months, this would all be worth it. Emori would be an Olympian, might be the first person with a documented hand deformity to medal in diving. All the pain and work and sacrifice would finally, finally lead her to her goal. </p><p>“Hey!” Someone called, shaking her out of her rhythm. </p><p>It was John.</p><p>He, too, was wearing a simple pair of running shoes and the same ArkU Aquatics jacket that she was. </p><p>Kind of incredible that after two years of avoiding him, it suddenly felt like he was everywhere. </p><p>“Good morning!!” She called, slowing to a stop in front of him. “I never see swim people out on the track!” </p><p>He chuckled, running a hand through his floppy hair. </p><p>“I heard that cross conditioning with sprints is supposed to help with endurance. I need to shave .35 seconds off my butterfly,” he said, scuffling his shoe against the track. </p><p>He looked out of place and a little nervous, and despite herself, Emori couldn’t help the way her heart tugged at his admission. </p><p>She saw so much of her own ambition, her fear of failure, reflected in his eyes. </p><p>Despite having never spoken about it, she knew that he was doing this for reasons beyond competitive spirit, that his desire to succeed was driven by something desperate. </p><p>“You’re in luck. I’m about to do some 200-meter sprints. Care to join me?” She offered, knowing that she would probably regret it later but unable to keep herself from getting involved. </p><p>With coffee and studying, she’d had an easy out. But this was different. In the cold, glimmer of the early morning, they were both laid bare. Emori couldn’t have turned down this version of John, no matter how hard she tried. </p><p>He beamed at her, following as she led him to the corner of the track. </p><p>“Sprinting isn’t like running. If you just try to run really fast, you’ll pull your hip flexors. The key is to engage your quads and glutes,” she explained, running her hands over the front of her legs, feeling the smooth ridges of muscle honed from years of running, diving, and gymnastics. </p><p>John nodded, rolling his shoulders as she spoke. His eyes traced the movement of her hands and her skin prickled with heat. It was an innocent glance, but she was suddenly overwhelmed with the idea of his hands doing it instead of her own. </p><p>“Do you want to go first so I can kind of see what you’re talking about?” He asked, finally drawing his gaze back to hers. </p><p>Clearing her throat, she agreed, bracing herself for the sprint. </p><p>3...2...1…</p><p>And she was off. </p><p>All thoughts of John and his lopsided smirk faded away as her muscles stung, and her lungs burned. It was exactly what she needed, a dose of pure adrenaline. Her feet thudded against the rubber, grounding her, centering her with the earth. </p><p>“Now it’s your turn,” Emori called, panting for air as she waved for him to follow her. </p><p>His sprint was faster than hers, his legs longer and body leaner, but there was an impreciseness to it—a stark contrast from how he swam, where he was so methodical and controlled. </p><p>“You gotta relax your shoulders a bit. You’re going to pull your traps,” she corrected gently, reaching out to smooth her hands over his shoulders to demonstrate. </p><p>It wasn’t until she felt the heat of his skin through his thin shirt that she realized that she was touching him—really touching him, the muscle of his shoulders jumping under her palms. </p><p>She wanted to continue her path, to smooth them up his neck, and play with the short strands of hair at the back of his head. But instead, she pulled away, trying not to let it show how much it had affected her. </p><p>“Should we go again?” John asked, clearing his throat as he set himself up for another sprint. </p><p>They went back and forth like that, sprinting and stretching. Towards the end, they raced one another, and while Emori lacked height, she made up for it in power. They finished side by side, shoulders brushing as they caught their breath. </p><p>He was funnier than she’d expected, peppering little jokes in while they ran. </p><p>By the time the sun started warming the track, indicating it was time for them to pack up, Emori was sad that it was over. </p><p>She’d never let anyone into her morning training before, but with John, it didn’t feel like an intrusion. He was good company, focused and serious but still fun. </p><p>“Do you want another bagel?” He asked, kneeling to sift through his bag as they moved into the grass. “Seems only fair since you basically coached me this morning.” </p><p>“I mean...if you insist,” Emori giggled, sitting beside him as he produced two bagels wrapped carefully in paper towels and a small tub of cream cheese. “I kind of feel bad that I keep stealing half your breakfast, though.” </p><p>This is just the pre-breakfast snack,” he chuckled, slapping his perfectly tightened abs before handing her a knife. </p><p>Sometimes she lost sight of how much the male swimmers ate. They were like bottomless pits, constantly snacking on something. Clarke kept extras of everything whenever Bellamy came over because he ate at least seven meals throughout the day. </p><p>And yet, there wasn’t a single one who wasn’t built like a Greek god. It was a testament to how intense their training schedules were. </p><p>They ate their breakfast side by side, sprawled out on the grass, watching as the sun struggled to emerge from behind the horizon. </p><p>The silence was comfortable, companionable in a way. It struck Emori how strange it was that she felt so comfortable around John. There was something about him that put her at ease, something that drew her in. </p><p>“Have you started studying for that stupid exam? I can’t believe that he’s giving one in the second week of class,” John said around his bagel, rolling his eyes at the thought. </p><p>And there it was, that nagging feeling at the base of her stomach. The one telling her not to get too close, that she was flying beside the sun and looking to get burnt. </p><p>No matter how much she fought it, there was something here. Something that made her heart seize a little. </p><p>And that’s what made it so dangerous. </p><p>If Emori was going to do this, spend time with John, she had to keep her head straight. They were just friends, friends who trained together, and shared bagels. </p><p>It wouldn’t be that hard. She just had to keep reminding herself to be cool. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>Being cool was apparently easier said than done. </p><p>Within weeks, John secured a place in her life and became a staple during her morning runs and afternoon study sessions. </p><p>And the more time Emori spent with him, the harder it became to keep herself in the mindset of being friends. </p><p>Everything from the way that he flipped his hair to the chewed caps of his pens to the faint cologne mixed with chlorine that seemed almost seeped into his skin was intriguing to her. </p><p>She always wanted to spend more time with him, found her heart rate ticking up every time her phone buzzed with a text. </p><p>“Smile,” he called, holding up his phone to catch what was surely an ugly picture of her. “I needed a contact picture for you!” </p><p>“You’re kidding right, at least take one where I’m smiling,” she protested, swinging her hammock so she could reach him better, her biology notes spreading around her. </p><p>With a wicked wink, he swung his hammock away, cackling as he presumably set her contact picture. </p><p>“It’s a good one, don’t worry!” </p><p>She was almost sure that it wasn’t, but with the constraints of her hammock, there wasn’t much she could do. </p><p>Unless…</p><p>Two could play at this game. </p><p>Quietly, careful not to rustle her papers in a way that would make him notice she pulled out her phone. </p><p>“Hey John,” she called, clicking a picture of him as his head whipped up. </p><p>His eyes dropped to her phone, and he gasped, moving to step out of his hammock. </p><p>Before he had the chance, she tipped herself out, leaving her Birkenstock’s behind as she squealed, running away as he jogged closely behind. </p><p>Neither of them was trying, both barefoot and laughing too hard to run with any kind of seriousness. He caught her around the middle before she could stray too far from their hammocks, swinging her in the air before collapsing them both into the grass. </p><p>They landed on top of each other, Emori’s hands braced against John’s chest. </p><p>She took a moment to catch her breath, the last remnants of a laugh slipping out as she looked closer at the photo she’d taken. </p><p>“I happen to think this is very dignified,” she teased, zooming in on the photo. His eyes were closed, and his mouth was open, the image slightly blurred from the movement. </p><p>“I concede, you win ‘Mori,” John said, his hand still splayed across her waist as he took in the admittedly terrible photo. “I’ll change yours if you change mine. Send me your favorite picture of yourself.” </p><p>His words caught her off guard. </p><p>Did she have a favorite picture of herself? </p><p>“You are the only person I’ve ever met who is this insistent on having contact pictures for people.” </p><p>“It helps me keep track of my texts,” he shrugged, finally letting go of her waist. But she could still feel the ghost of his hands through her T-shirt. </p><p>Rolling onto her back, Emori scrolled through her Instagram. It was packed full of diving pictures, action shots, her team photos, one of her, Clarke, Harper, and Gaia, hugging each other tightly outside their favorite restaurant. She couldn’t pick out one as her favorite. It felt like a big ask, and she wasn’t sure why. </p><p>Maybe it was the idea that it was the picture John would see every time he opened her texts or answered her calls. </p><p>But thinking about a photo of her sitting in his phone, popping up on his screen, made her chest feel warm. </p><p>Finally, she found one. </p><p>It was a solo shot, her hair down and curled around her shoulders, blowing behind her as she smiled broadly, gripping the hem of her flowy blue dress. </p><p>Harper had taken it at the Sports Gala last year, the singular occasion every athlete on campus took off their sweats, skipped practice, and dressed up. </p><p>Emori loved this one, it felt like an accurate representation of who she was, and it was still her profile picture of Facebook. </p><p>Before she could hesitate, she took a screenshot and sent it to John. </p><p>“Use that one instead. Far less ugly,” she said with a soft smile, turning in the grass to face him. </p><p>He smiled as he looked at the picture, and a few seconds later, she received one of her own. </p><p>Much like hers, John was smiling broadly. His eyes flitted up like he hadn’t seen the camera until just before the picture was taken. It made it all the more endearing because the smile was completely genuine. He had a donut in one hand and a coffee in the other, the outline of a pumpkin patch in the background. </p><p>Emori wasn’t one for contact pictures, the only ones she had saved were from high school, and they were all extremely unflattering. </p><p>But she saved John’s anyway, grateful she had the chance to look at the picture every time he texted. </p><p>Which...was not something people were supposed to think about their friends. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>Murphy checked himself in the mirror one last time. He wanted to look nice, but not too nice. It was a balance, didn’t want it to seem like he was trying too hard. </p><p>Things between him and Emori were more confusing than ever. </p><p>It would be so easy to let himself fall for her. She was everything he always wanted. </p><p>But things were never as straightforward as they seemed. </p><p>“Murph, do you want pizza? We’re about to order,” Miller called from the living room, just as Murphy finished packing up his bag. </p><p>“He can’t. He’s meeting Emori,” Clarke supplied as she twirled one of Bellamy’s curls around her finger. </p><p>Clarke shrugged as he scowled; he hadn’t exactly planned on telling his roommates where he was going.  “What? She's my best friend. I know things.” </p><p>Part of him preened at the idea that Emori was talking about him, but Bellamy’s smug smirk was a reminder that there was a reason he was trying not to tell anyone. </p><p>“We’re studying. Our anatomy professor is a certified asshole,” he explained, trying to convey to his own best friend that this wasn’t a date. </p><p>“Have fun, be safe,” Bellamy teased, chuckling as Murphy flipped him off and left the apartment. </p><p>He shoved his hand in his pockets, mentally talking himself down. </p><p>It wasn’t that he didn’t want to give it a shot, tell her how he felt, and finally know whether she felt the same way. </p><p>But…</p><p>He’d lost so much getting to this point. It would be an insult to his father’s memory to risk losing everything so close to his goal. </p><p>His family was poor, dirt poor. And swimming wasn’t the kind of sport that was accessible to kids like him. But they’d made it work. His dad worked three jobs to help cover his fees and his suits and his travel costs. The Olympics was always the goal, ever since a coach told Murphy he was the best natural talent he’d ever seen. </p><p>Because of his swimming, the money that he needed to do what he loved, his dad had worked himself to death. If it weren’t for him, his dad would never have been working in that factory. He wouldn’t have gotten into the accident that took his life. </p><p>After that, Murphy understood that he had no choice but to succeed, that he could never let himself get distracted.  </p><p>He had to make his dad proud, to prove to himself that it wasn’t all for nothing. </p><p>Even if it meant losing out on someone who made him feel like nobody else ever had. </p><p>They could be friends, and that would just have to be enough. </p><p>***</p><p>Murphy banged his head on the table, groaning loudly. He was frustrated and starving and extremely pissed off at this professor for ruining his life. </p><p>“I hate this class. I don’t understand anything. Why does chemistry have to be involved in any of this,” he moaned, pillowing his cheek on top of the textbook. </p><p>Emori studied him from across the table, chewing on the end of her pen. He knew he was being dramatic and annoying, but this material left him at his wit’s end. </p><p>“I never asked, but why are you taking this class? I’m assuming you’re not a psychology major because we’ve never had a class together, and you’re obviously not a chemistry major,” she giggled, closing her thick stack of notes. </p><p>“I’m an education major,” he explained, straightening back up. “My minor is in physical education, and apparently, this hellscape is somehow relevant to forcing unwilling 12-year-olds to run a mile.” </p><p>Her eyebrows shot up, and she was obviously surprised by his admission. </p><p>He didn’t blame her. </p><p>Most of their teammates who were serious about pursuing professional careers majored in topical things that weren’t too demanding or in sports relevant fields like broadcast journalism. </p><p>But coming from the background he did, knowing how fickle fame and money were. He’d wanted something reliable to fall back on, something that he could do even when swimming faded into the background.</p><p>“I’m good with kids, and I always wanted to be a coach after I retired, so it made sense,” he shrugged, smiling carefully. “I didn’t know you were a psych major?” </p><p>Now it was Emori’s turn to smile, a warmth taking over her face as she explained how she wanted to be an Occupational Therapist. </p><p>“I know that this,” she explained, holding up her hand. “It is a lot less than what some kids deal with. But I want to be able to help kids adapt to their disabilities, help them gain confidence in themselves, you know?” </p><p>Murphy had forgotten entirely about her hand. </p><p>He thought back to when she was featured in Teen Vogue, how beautifully she’d spoken about being an advocate for herself.  Obviously, they hadn’t known each other back then, but he’d read the spread in the Dr.’s office, about how she learned to embrace herself through sports. </p><p>“I think that’s amazing,” he said, reaching out to skim his fingers over her forearm. </p><p>Their eyes met, and the moment suddenly grew heavy, his heartbeat quickening as she smiled at him. </p><p>Emori was so incredibly bright, so passionate, and smart. Spending time with her made him want to know more. It was the opposite of what he was supposed to be doing, but nobody had ever made him feel like this before. </p><p>The whole thing was incredibly overwhelming. </p><p>“How do you feel about taking a break for dinner?” she said, effectively breaking the silence and the moment between them. <br/>  <br/>“Love the sound of that. I’m starving.” </p><p>They packed up their things in silence, leaving the study room to the boys who had been hovering outside for almost an hour. </p><p>“How do you feel about waffles?” He asked as they stepped out into the cool late summer evening. </p><p>“I’m starting to think you have a thing for breakfast foods.” </p><p>“Maybe I do? But I also know the best place in Arkadia for a 10 pm waffle.” </p><p>She slapped his arm with the back of her hand, but didn’t protest, just followed him down the street, toward the bustling strip of restaurants and stores. </p><p>The beginnings of the bar crowd were starting to trickle in, filling the air with excited shouts and the clink of high heels on the pavement. </p><p>Even if they couldn’t drink when they were training, there was excitement in being around it. </p><p>“Happy fucking Friday!” One of the boys screamed, pumping his fist in the air. </p><p>And honestly, it was a pretty good Friday. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>Clarke pushed Emori’s heel to the ground, counting down from ten as Emori fought the resistance. Her quads burned, screaming out as she pulled her leg toward her ear. </p><p>It was a necessary evil, but she hated stretching with every fiber of her being. </p><p>“Can’t we just do more deadlifts?” She groaned, flopping back on the mat. </p><p>“If you want to get the triple tuck nailed by worlds...you need to stretch,” Clarke shrugged, waving her hand to repeat the exercise. </p><p>They had exactly a month before the FINA qualifier. The meet that would determine whether or not they would get a spot on the Olympic team. </p><p>“I heard Diyoza say that she wants us in for doubles plus conditioning five times a week from now on,” Clarke sighed, folding Emori’s leg backward in a painful extension. </p><p>“That’s...horrific,” she agreed, wincing when the hold finally clicked into place. “I’m going to have to ask for an extension on my psych paper.” </p><p>Clarke nodded with a soft frown, cracking her knuckles as she slid into an easy split. </p><p>They both stretched in silence, rolling their joints and easing their muscles into complex positions. The faint hum of an old Taylor Swift album filled the air, taking Emori back to hours spent on her bedroom floor, practicing gymnastics. </p><p>“How’d it go with Murphy the other night?” Clarke asked, draining a bottle of Gatorade. It was an innocent enough question, but her smirk betrayed her.</p><p>Emori wasn’t as subtle as she thought. </p><p>“We were just studying,” Emori sighed, cracking her neck as she stood up. “And it was late. We needed to eat.” </p><p>“Mhmm, that's why he came back to the apartment with the dopiest smile I’ve ever seen…” </p><p>At that, Emori blushed, more than a little pleased that he’d had as much fun as she had. They’d made forts out of salt shakers and forks, shared huge stacks of waffles, sides of eggs and bacon. </p><p>Things shifted from a quick dinner to something more. She drank four cups of coffee by midnight, and it left her jumpy and excited as they talked over the table, sharing stories about training and practice. Eventually, they delved into their lives, how they got to ArkU. Emori hadn’t wanted it to end, even after though she knew that they would regret it at practice in the morning. </p><p>“It was oddly similar to the dopey smile you have on your face right now…” Clarke grinned, wiggling her eyebrows. “Murphy’s a great guy, as much as I hate admitting it. I’m happy for you.” </p><p>“Oh. We’re not—I mean, I can’t—“ she fumbled, neck heating as she tried to halfheartedly explain why she couldn’t date him. </p><p>It felt flimsy when she said it all out loud, but she didn’t know how to articulate exactly why telling John how she felt was such a bad idea. </p><p>She’d come to terms with the fact that everyone she loved had left her behind, that she started her life not being enough for the people who were supposed to love her most. </p><p>It made her strong, drove her toward success. After years of being on her own, she shielded her heart, protecting it from the world. </p><p>John had the potential to shatter her into a million pieces, and she couldn’t handle it. Not when there was so much riding on the next month. </p><p>If she failed, if she didn’t make the team. It would destroy her, and that was a risk that Emori just wasn’t willing to take. </p><p>“Emori…” Clarke said softly, wrapping her roommate in a tight hug. </p><p>Somehow, without noticing, Emori had let a few tears slip down her cheeks. She hugged Clarke back, sinking into it, letting the weight she’d been carrying since the beginning of the semester fall a little bit. </p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m just so confused,” she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady. </p><p>“I wish you would be nicer to yourself,” was all Clarke said in return, rubbing a soothing hand down Emori’s back. </p><p>And the words hit Emori like a truck. </p><p>She was a lot of things, proud of herself, happy with herself...but she was also hard on herself, and truthfully, she wasn’t sure if she was nice to herself. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>Murphy found himself alone at the track on Monday morning, left to do his sprints and stretches without Emori’s company. </p><p>He didn’t bother eating his bagel in the grass like usual, opting to save it for class in favor of getting in a few extra laps. </p><p>It just didn’t feel the same without Emori. </p><p>He wanted to text her, to make sure that she was okay. But it felt like an overstep. Even if they were friends, he didn’t feel like it was his place to ask why she skipped their workout. </p><p>Lingering over her contact, he stared at the photo. Every time he saw it—it made his heart swoop. It wasn’t that big of a deal, he only had pictures for his close friends, and all of them were blurry and unflattering. But he was glad that he’d ended up with this picture on his phone. </p><p>Even if their friendship was fizzling out, it was a reminder of all their races around the track, bagels in the grass, and study sessions in their hammocks. </p><p>But the idea of never having those moments with her again—kind of broke his heart. </p><p>Stuffing his phone back in his pocket, he left the course, joining the masses on the busy sidewalk. </p><p>He was getting ahead of himself. Emori probably just overslept. He would see her later in their anatomy lab. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>Ignoring John did not make Emori feel like she was being nice to herself. </p><p>In fact, she felt like shit, guilty for dropping him without an explanation and sad that she couldn’t just be with him the way they wanted. </p><p>“What is going on with you today?” Harper asked sternly, turning Emori’s shoulder so she could examine the red mark from where she’d hit the surface of the water at the wrong angle. </p><p>“Nothing, I’m just having an off week,” she shrugged, wincing as Harper rubbed a thumb over the bruise. </p><p>“Well, you’re going to hurt yourself.” </p><p>Emori shook off the comment, turning her ankle in a slow circle before she prepared for another dive. </p><p>This was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. </p><p>John was just a boy. </p><p>The best boy she’d ever met. </p><p>But still a boy. </p><p>She stood at the end of the springboard, examining the water. </p><p>This was so much bigger than all her flighty, college girl problems. </p><p>And then she jumped, enjoying the soft drop in her stomach as she flew through the air. On her second flip, her knee buckled just enough to throw off her inertia, and she cannonballed into the water with a loud splash. </p><p>“EMORI! Out of the water!” Diyoza screamed, waiting at the end of the pool, tapping on the surface of a clipboard with the back of her pen. </p><p>“That was a level 1 mistake. You’re out of the water for the rest of practice. Go stretch. You should know better than to jump when your concentration is off, that’s how you hurt yourself.” </p><p>Emori’s cheeks burned as she murmured an apology to Diyoza, pulling herself out of the pool just as Harper and Clarke lined up for their synchronized routine. </p><p>She watched them fly gracefully off the boards, perfectly in sync. Harper was graceful, and Clarke was strong. They were the ideal combination. It was the cleanest routine Emori had ever seen. Exactly the level of control that was expected three weeks out from Worlds. </p><p>Meanwhile, she’d been expelled from practice for a sloppy landing. </p><p>For the first time in her life, it felt like she had no control over herself. For years she’d internalized all her feelings, kept everything bottled up, and it felt like all of it was overflowing at the seams. </p><p>All over a boy who she wasn’t even dating. </p><p>This whole thing felt so inconsequential and stupid...but it also felt like the biggest deal in the world. </p><p>Despite her best efforts—she’d created the opportunity for another person to leave her. </p><p>That was why she had to do this, break her own heart before he did it for her. </p><p>It was more controlled this way. It would be easier to handle, even if she had to live with what-if for the rest of her life. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>Murphy’s phone pinged. To his surprise, it was from Emori. </p><p>
  <em>“Do you want my midterm notes?” </em>
</p><p>Short, to the point, totally perfunctory. </p><p>He couldn’t figure out what he did for her to cut him off like this. </p><p>But he couldn’t dwell on it. Honestly, she’d done him a favor, with trials coming up two weeks, he couldn’t afford the distraction. </p><p>Even if not talking to Emori was just as distracting as talking to her was. </p><p><em>“Got an extension because of the qualifier. Don’t worry about it,”</em> he typed in return, wishing he could say more but knowing that he shouldn’t. </p><p>Three little dots appeared and disappeared, and appeared again and then disappeared. </p><p>Radio silence. </p><p>He threw his phone onto the bed, trying to suppress a frustrated groan. </p><p>In the span of a few months, Emori had become his favorite person, and just as quickly as she’d come, she’d vanished again, leaving a gap in her place.  </p><p>Murphy hadn’t intended to, but he’d let her in. Emori was the first person he’d opened up to in a long time, let his walls down around. </p><p>Maybe she hadn’t liked what she’d seen. </p><p>He knew that he was an acquired taste, but it hurt more coming from her. </p><p>And then...a ping. </p><p>Not from Emori, but from his mom. </p><p>
  <em>“Saw your name announced on TV today. Can’t wait to watch you. My little star, your dad, would’ve been so proud.” </em>
</p><p>His heart stuttered, and for a minute, it felt like he was being yanked back in time. </p><p>It was one of her rare sober moments, they didn’t come often, but when they did, it was one of the only glimpses he got at the mother he’d once known. </p><p>The one before the accident, who didn’t waste away drunk on the couch. </p><p>Murphy didn’t bother with a response. He just called her. </p><p>Despite everything, all the drunk yelling and slammed doors and police visits and crying. She was still his mom, and he couldn’t help the glimmer of hope that things might be different this time. </p><p><em>“Hello, baby,”</em> his mom’s raspy voice said from across the line. She sounded older, worn down, but there was an unmistakable lilt to her voice, the same one that sung him to sleep for half his life. </p><p>She was, in fact, sober. </p><p>Somehow, curled up at the foot of his bed, he had the best conversation with his mom since he was seventeen. It felt like they were making up for lost time, like for a brief second, he had a real parent, one who cared for him and wanted him to succeed. </p><p><em>“Call me tomorrow afternoon. I’m interviewing for a job at the Kroger. Johnny, I’m so excited about it. I think it’s going to turn everything around,”</em> she said, her Midwestern vowels catching on the store name in a way that tugged at his heartstrings. </p><p>“Okay, mom. Good luck,” Murphy said, falling back against his bed. He didn’t want to have hope, but maybe, just maybe, she would actually get better. “I love you.” </p><p>He held the phone to his chest, staring up at the ceiling. </p><p>There were only two people who knew the whole truth about his mom, Bellamy, and...Emori. </p><p>Bellamy had enough on his plate between their upcoming meet and Clarke’s shoulder injury flaring up. He couldn’t take on anything else. And Emori didn’t seem to want anything to do with him. </p><p>He was itching to tell someone, but there wasn’t anyone to tell. </p><p>His phone buzzed. </p><p><em>“Ok!!”</em> from Emori. </p><p>It stung more than it should. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>Murphy’s mom didn’t call back the next day…or the day after that. </p><p>He was too scared to call her, too scared of what he would find. </p><p>As much as he missed Emori, he was still grateful for his mornings at the track. </p><p>Typically, he skipped Wednesdays, but the thought of sitting through Experiential Teaching Methods right now seemed like too much to bear. </p><p>Between upcoming trials and what was going on with his mom, not to mention the fact that the girl he liked wouldn’t even speak to him, Murphy was unraveling. </p><p>Even baking wasn’t helping anymore. </p><p>He plopped into the grass, checking his phone for a text from his mom that he knew would never come in. </p><p>It was stupid for him to have gotten his hopes up, to entertain the idea that she could’ve been sober enough to come watch him swim. His mom hadn’t seen him compete since he was in middle school. </p><p>A creak at the gate shook him out of his thoughts, and he braced himself to apologize to the track coach until he realized that it was Emori. </p><p>“I’m sorry—I, oh...John!” She fumbled, bag slipping off her shoulder as she took him in. </p><p>There was a long pause, and he could feel her eyes on him. </p><p>“Are you alright?” She asked carefully, sitting a comfortable distance away. </p><p>“I don’t think you really get to ask that anymore…” he replied coldly, trying not to let it show that he was not faring well. </p><p>Another long stretch of silence spread between them, and Emori picked at a blade of grass, chewing on her bottom lip. </p><p>“I don’t know if this is up to your standard...but,” she said, reaching into her bag and producing three Eggo waffles wrapped in paper towels. </p><p>He couldn’t help the snort at the soggy microwaved waffle she handed him. </p><p>“Is this what you’ve been eating lately? Jesus ‘Mori.” </p><p>Murphy couldn’t help how the nickname slipped out, even though he was mad and hurt and confused. It was a relief to see her again, really see her, not just sit beside her while they stared resolutely ahead. </p><p>“My grandpa didn’t really know how to cook anything. He raised me all by himself. Everything we had was frozen, delivered in a styrofoam container, or dropped off by a pitying neighbor. These were his favorite breakfast. Made in the microwave, so they were soft and covered in a healthy layer of margarine,” Emori explained, keeping her eyes on the grass as she nibbled on the corner of a waffle. “I don’t know...I miss him, and I wish he could be here. I wish I could talk to him that he could see me compete. Eating these, it helps. I know they kind of suck, though.” </p><p>Incredibly, it was like she’d looked into his heart and taken the words right out of it. </p><p>And it made the whole thing hurt more. </p><p>“Emori, I can’t handle this,” he gritted out, forcing himself to be honest. “You can’t just ignore me for a month and then come here and say things that hit me right in my soft spots, and—I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m not in a place where I can just be snarky about it and move on. Not today, not right now.” </p><p>“John—“ </p><p>But he couldn’t take it anymore. Still holding the soggy waffle, he stood up and left. </p><p>It was a mistake to trust someone again, to open himself up like this. </p><p>His mom...Emori...it felt like the world was letting him down lately. </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Guilt stung in Emori’s veins. </p><p>She fucked up. </p><p>She couldn’t exactly figure out how, but she knew that what just happened between her and John was her fault. </p><p>Lying back in the grass, she chewed on her waffle. The sharp grief she’d been feeling earlier for her grandpa flaring back up. </p><p>He was the first person who truly loved her, who had taught her everything about being a person. </p><p>When Emori lost him five years ago, she lost a piece of herself too. The piece that guided her and helped her through difficult things. </p><p>Somewhere along the way, she just pushed all her emotions down and let them bubble below the surface. </p><p>And it was starting to seem like that wasn’t a very good solution to her problems. </p><p>Before her grandpa passed away, she’d spent the weeks before glued to his bedside, only leaving for practice and school. </p><p>She’d been so angry, mad that the universe would take away her person. </p><p>But he’d never been afraid of his illness, never lied to her about what the future might hold. </p><p>“Mi amorzinho, everyone we love leaves us. That’s part of what makes love so special. Sometimes it’s long, and sometimes it’s short, but it changes you every time,” he’d said, voice fragile, his thin, cold hand holding hers tightly. “I’m leaving you soon, and I’ve had many leave me, but it was all worth it.” </p><p>It wasn’t the last thing he said to her, and at the time, it got lost among all the other things she was trying desperately to remember. </p><p>But now, it felt like she was hearing those words for the first time. </p><p>What did it all mean? What was the point of it all? </p><p>Can you fall in love with someone...without being with them? </p><p>The grief washed over her fully. Her grandpa would’ve known what to say, what to do. He would’ve steadied her, helped her find her footing again. </p><p>It was rare that she felt overwhelming loneliness in the way she had when she was a teenager, but right now, with her friends were consumed in their own worries and John too angry to speak to her, she felt the weight of the world sitting firmly on her chest. </p><p>She’d thought she was taking Clarke’s advice, that she was kind to herself by pushing John away. But all it had done was made her miserable and broken his trust in her. </p><p>It was becoming more and more obvious she missed the point. </p><p>That was why she was so miserable, why her brain felt fried, and her emotions were all over the place. </p><p>What Clarke and her grandpa had been trying to say was one and the same. </p><p>Emori needed to let herself be human. </p><p>For so long, she’d put up a front, tried to seem strong, never let anyone see her weaknesses. </p><p>Until she started to let John in. </p><p>And those brief glimpses of vulnerability exposed how tired she was. </p><p>Yes, she was a role model and an elite athlete, but she wasn’t a robot, and maybe it was time to give herself some grace. </p><p>She would succeed because her grandpa loved her enough to care for her, because her friends loved her enough to root for her and because she loved herself enough to give it a shot. </p><p>Whether or not she loved John Murphy...had nothing to do with her diving success. </p><p>It never had. </p><p>Maybe she was meant to love him just so she could figure out what her grandfather was trying to tell her, perhaps it was because they were supposed to be there for each other in a specific place in time. </p><p>It might be long, or it might be short. John might not even love her back. </p><p>But she had to tell him that she was sorry and she had to tell him the truth. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>“Você é tudo, você é forte, você é o sol,” Emori whispered to herself from the top of the diving board, staring down at the empty pool. </p><p>It was the middle of the day, nobody would be in to practice for at least a few hours. She had the pool totally to herself. </p><p>“You are everything, you are strong, you are the sun.” </p><p>They were words her grandmother had written her in an old birthday card, her crooked handwriting still molded into Emori’s brain. </p><p>She’d passed before Emori was born, but the card always sat by Emori’s bedside. </p><p>That sentence stirred something deep inside her, a reminder that before she was born—someone thought she was incredible. </p><p>Today, Emori believed those words. </p><p>Repeating the mantra one last time, she set up her dive.</p><p>Armstand, spring, launch. </p><p>One, two, three flips. </p><p>Twist. </p><p>Flip. </p><p>Inward somersault. </p><p>Twist. </p><p>And a clean entry to the water. </p><p>It was a perfect routine, the best she’d ever done. And even if there was nobody there to see it, there was a faint tingle on her skin, like somewhere out there her grandpa just gave her a proud wink. </p><p>Panting, Emori resurfaced, propping her elbows on the deck of the pool as she reflected on her dive. </p><p>With her hand and her broken family and her broken heart, she’d given the best routine of her life. </p><p>Those things didn’t change her, and it wouldn’t change her success. </p><p>If she didn't make it to the Olympics...she would deal with it when the time came. </p><p>If Emori didn’t believe in herself, if she didn’t start prioritizing her own happiness...the way she’d been feeling lately would become her normal and—that was too painful of an idea to bear. </p><p>The clarity of it all was freeing. She wanted to scream it from the rooftops. </p><p>But it was stilted slightly by the fact that John was still upset with her, that she’d made him think that she didn’t care about him. </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell are you doing?” Clarke asked, picking up the lid of a bubbling pot between her fingers. </p><p>“I—uhh, I’m trying to make bagels?” Emori sighed, poking one of the limp circles of dough in the pot. “What do you think?” </p><p>“I think this looks like wet dough,” Gaia teased, wincing as she peeked over Emori’s shoulder. </p><p>Clarke rubbed a finger over the bridge of her nose, studying Emori and the pot of admittedly depressing bagels. </p><p>“She’s right. You’re supposed to bake them before you boil them.” </p><p>Shit. </p><p>Emori knew she forgot something. </p><p>“Well. There goes that,” she groaned, putting the lid back on the pot. </p><p>“Have you considered that making him bagels when you don’t know how to cook is a lot harder than just talking to him?” Clarke said, hopping up to sit on the counter. </p><p>“How did you—“ </p><p>“Bellamy let me have a turn with our shared brain cell today.” </p><p>Emori snorted, flicking Clarke on the knee. </p><p>“He doesn’t want to see me.” </p><p>“So? He’s going through something right now, and he needs someone to talk to. Just because he’s upset with you doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to see you.” </p><p>Making things right with John was a lot easier on paper than it was in execution. </p><p>Clarke squeezed her shoulder, taking one last look at the pot on the stove. </p><p>“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go take a quiz that’s due in 11 minutes.” </p><p>And with that, Clarke disappeared, leaving Emori to clean up her mess in more ways than one. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>By the grace of God himself, Murphy’s anatomy lecture had been canceled. This was the perfect time to get a little space and practice alone. </p><p>It was midafternoon. Nobody would be at the pool right now. </p><p>The water was his happy place, a place where nothing mattered except him and the pool. </p><p>But of course, he wasn’t by himself. </p><p>Jasper was swimming laps in one of the far lanes, rock music blaring from a bright blue pill speaker propped on the bench. </p><p>And—Emori was perched on top of the diving board, too far away for him to make out whether she’d seen him. </p><p>Hopefully, she hadn’t, and he could keep his head down. The last thing he needed was to add more salt to the wound. </p><p>Murphy had enough on his plate as it is. </p><p>He’d tried reaching his mom a handful of times since last Wednesday, but her phone rang a few times before going to voicemail. </p><p>But he didn’t need her to answer. He already knew what happened. </p><p>She wasn’t turning her life around, she wouldn’t be coming to his meet, and it was likely that there would be no news from her for at least a month. </p><p>It was the way things went. </p><p>To think that things might go differently this time, was naive. </p><p>Ignoring the splash from Emori’s dive, he shed his sweats, diving headfirst into the cold water. </p><p>He started with an easy freestyle, warming up his muscles, steadying his breathing. </p><p>When Murphy was a kid, after his dad died, he had a lot of misplaced anger. It got him into trouble more than once, breaking things, kicking things, lighting paper on fire. </p><p>His coach told him to imagine he was breathing out all his anger every time his head surfaced from the water. </p><p>He’d thought it was stupid at the time. </p><p>But with age, he saw the truth in it. That small piece of advice was probably the best thing that anyone ever told him. </p><p>That year he progressed the most he’d ever had in his entire career. </p><p>It became his way to process his life, to decompress from all his problems. </p><p>A build-up and a release. </p><p>All the frustration, fear, and anger he was feeling at his mom, it came out with each of his breaths, flowing into the water and leaving him in a fit of bubbles. </p><p>As he swam, he reflected on the past two weeks. Two of the most tumultuous of his college career. </p><p>His whole life had been a process of building up to trials, every early morning practice or missed birthday party, the moments he lost with his dad. </p><p>Hearing from his mom again, dredged it all back up, everything he’d spent his adult life trying to get past, all the guilt and hell this sport put his family through. </p><p>Having one of the only people he’d opened up to in years completely blow him off—was kind of just the icing on the cake. </p><p>Murphy came up for another breath, just in time to hear a scream that sent the hair on his arms standing up. </p><p>It was Emori. </p><p>All his anger drained away as he pulled himself upright, only to find Emori crouched at the end of the pool dangling over the edge, holding Jasper up by his armpits, the water around him a stark and unsettling rust red. </p><p>He was useless in the middle of the lane, frozen as his mind tried to wrap around what was unfolding. </p><p>“John!” Emori screamed again, just managing to tug Jasper out of the water and splay him out on the pool deck. </p><p>He sprinted, reaching the wall within seconds and hauling himself out. </p><p>One of the pool managers also came running out of the office, phone pressed to his ear as he rambled on the phone with emergency services. </p><p>“Did you see what happened?” The manager asked, reaching Emori and Jasper just after Murphy did. </p><p>“Can you hold his neck still?” She asked, looking between Jasper and Murphy. “If he starts thrashing around or something, it’s going to be bad.” </p><p>Murphy nodded, still numb by the amount of blood in the pool. </p><p>“He misjudged a dive off the block, absolutely slammed his head against the support wall and...knocked himself out. He’s bleeding pretty badly, but I think it’s coming from his nose,” she explained into the phone, a deep red stain already setting into her light blue suit. “He’s coming to. But it’s slow.” </p><p>Gently, Murphy rubbed a thumb on Jasper’s temple, hoping that this wasn’t as serious as it looked. </p><p>Handing the phone back to the pool supervisor, Emori knelt beside him, pushing Jasper’s hair off his forehead. </p><p>Right now, there wasn’t time to dwell on whatever was going on between them. </p><p>There was a genuine chance that they were kneeling in front of someone whose Olympic dreams were completely shattered. </p><p>Within minutes, they were crowded by paramedics, flanked on either side by men in dark uniforms, hauling Jasper onto a stretcher and carrying him away. </p><p>“You’re both soaking wet…” one of the men said, running a hand through his hair as he took them both in. “I can’t have you in the ambulance like this. If you want to be with him, you’ll have to meet us there.” </p><p>And with no other explanation, they carried Jasper away. </p><p>“We’re going after him, right?” Emori asked, already moving to wrap a towel around her shoulders. </p><p>“Of course,” he agreed, watching as the paramedics disappeared through the pool doors.</p><p>Emori did a deck change, pulling her suit off under a baggy sweatshirt and then stepping into her sweatpants. </p><p>“I’ll call Harper and Monty, they’re at their internships, so it’ll probably take them a while—“ she rambled, tossing her ruined suit aside as she dug through the bag for her phone. </p><p>“Mori...stop for a second. You just saved Jasper from drowning in his own blood. Slow down,” he said carefully, stepping toward her, letting his trunks slip from his hand to smack wetly on the tile floor. </p><p>“I’m fine. We need to go,” Emori said, reaching out to take his hand. “He’s fine, I’m fine, we can’t let him wake up in that hospital alone…” </p><p>Murphy knew what she meant. That Jasper needed someone there in case it was serious, in case someone dropped an earth-shattering revelation on him like it was nothing. </p><p>“I’ll drive.” </p><p>He didn’t let go of her hand, though. </p><p>Murphy could stop thinking about the fact that just an hour ago, he wished he was alone. </p><p>But right now, he was so grateful that Emori had been there, that she’d taken over when his brain shut off. </p><p>The hurt was still there, but it was edged off slightly by how relieved he felt to have her hand in his, to have her to drive to the hospital with. </p><p>Maybe it wasn’t always easier to do things by himself. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>Harper and Monty arrived within an hour, but the damage was done by then. </p><p>Jasper had a concussion, a broken nose, and his front tooth was completely knocked out. </p><p>There was no way he would be able to compete in the qualifier. It was even unlikely he’d be back to functional enough to do a flip-turn by the runoff meet in November. </p><p>Murphy would remember the sound of that sob for the rest of his life, the sound of someone whose entire life was dedicated to a sport only for it to be taken away days before the most important meet for his life. </p><p>It was his worst fear come true, happening to one of his teammates. The whole thing made his stomach turn. </p><p>Harper flew into Emori’s arms, a choked sob slipping from her lips as she left the room. </p><p>“I...I’m so happy he’s okay. They said if you guys hadn’t been there, he probably would’ve drowned. But, I don’t know if he’ll ever be the same again,” she whispered, voice muffled in Emori’s hair. </p><p>Over Harper’s shoulder, Emori’s eyes met his. </p><p>There was only a small handful of people who understood the gravity of this, what an immeasurable loss this was for Jasper. </p><p>One freak accident, that was all it took. </p><p>It was all so fleeting, they had no control of any of it. Who won, who lost, who competed and who didn’t. Murphy had spent so much of his life desperately trying to control things, but today was a lesson in the uncontrollable. </p><p>“I’m kind of numb,” he said, breaking the silence as Harper went back into the room, and he and Emori lingered awkwardly in the hall. </p><p>“The adrenaline is wearing off a little for me too. Do you want to get something to eat? We can bring lunch back for Monty and Harper,” she said, tilting her head toward the sign that read cafeteria.</p><p>Murphy nodded, following her, still thinking about Jasper and random chance. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>“I’m sorry that I kind of just cut you out...it was mean when you didn’t do anything to deserve it,” Emori rambled, picking on a corner of a stale looking turkey sandwich. “I know this isn’t really the best time, but I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you.” </p><p>Murphy froze mid-bite, thrown off-kilter by her admission. </p><p>The rejection of it all still stung, but he was glad that she’d acknowledged it. </p><p>“It’s okay...” he tried to assure her, not wanting to rip open something so fresh, but she held her hand up. </p><p>“No, it’s not. You deserve more than being ghosted by someone that was supposed to be your friend,” she continued. “It’s hard for me to open up to people and...I got overwhelmed, but that’s not an excuse. I need to apologize. You don’t need to accept it if you don’t want to.” </p><p>He was stunned. </p><p>Murphy was expecting a lot of things—but this wasn’t one of them. </p><p>Nobody had ever given him room like this, room to react, an apology with space. </p><p>He’d only known Emori, really known her, for a handful of months. But somehow she knew him better than almost anyone else. </p><p>Putting down his disgusting chicken salad sandwich, he reached out to take her hand, tracing a circle around her knuckle. </p><p>“Today, I watched my worst fear play out in someone else’s life, like the thing that makes me sit up in cold sweats at 3 in the morning. I have lived my entire adult life so afraid of that one thing...that I was too scared to do anything,” he said, letting his thoughts knit together while he spoke. Murphy wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but his mind was moving so fast that he couldn’t stop. “This sport is the best thing that ever happened to me, but it’s also kind of the worst. You know? And I don’t think I fully understood that until right now, but it’s warped my entire life.” </p><p>“What do you mean?” </p><p>“That I’m dying for trials to be over with. Not because I’m excited about the chance to be in the Olympics but because I just want to fucking know. My dad is dead because of my swimming, and my mom is a drunk asshole, and I’m failing anatomy, and Jasper is never going to swim in the Olympics because of a fucking wall—“ </p><p>And this was why he didn’t make a habit out of starting sentences without knowing where he was going. Now, he was crying in the middle of a hospital cafeteria, while sitting across from the girl he had a crush on that definitely didn’t like him back. </p><p>He was taking embarrassment to the next level, but he felt like he was verging on hysteria. </p><p>“John…” </p><p>“My whole life has hinged on the idea that being an Olympian is going to solve all my problems. But, when this is all over, I won’t have my dad, and my mom is still going to be an unreliable mess, and I’ll still be failing anatomy. It’s all so surreal, and it didn’t strike me until I heard Harper talk about how Jasper will never be the same again. This sport has fucking broken us all. Broken me to the point that I can’t even let myself enjoy anything out of fear that it’ll screw my chances—“ </p><p>Emori stood and rounded the table to kneel in front of him, bracing her hands on his thighs. </p><p>“You need to breathe because you’re going to start hyperventilating,” she said calmly, rubbing her thumbs into the smooth fabric of his sweatpants. “You’re right. We’re all broken. But I don’t think swimming broke any of us, not totally anyway. What it takes to get to the Olympics, most people don’t have it. You, me, Jasper, Bellamy, Clarke, Harper...I think you have to be a little broken to even try.” </p><p>Without hesitation, he leaned forward, lowering himself into an awkwardly angled hug with Emori. </p><p>They were sitting on the cold tile floor in a hospital cafeteria that smelled vaguely of Riceroni, but it was the most content he’d been in a long time. </p><p>She froze for a beat before sagging into it, her forehead pressed into his neck, arms wrapped tightly around his torso. </p><p>“But we don’t have to break ourselves even further. This is hard enough as is,” she agreed, squeezing him a little tighter. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>Practice was canceled, the pool needed to be drained, the coaches had arrangements to make and travel arrangements to modify. According to Monty and Harper, Jasper already decided to take the semester off. He couldn’t bear to be on campus anymore. </p><p>Bellamy made a massive pot of chicken and gnocchi soup, served it with leftover bagels from John’s last batch. </p><p>It wasn’t a happy affair by any means, but it felt like coming home to something comfortable and loving, and that was a concept Emori learned not to take for granted. </p><p>She kept close to John’s side, unsure of where they stood after their conversation in the hospital. </p><p>After everything, it was too much to push it further. They were exhausted, and the tone of the apartment was sober, muted. </p><p>Everyone was thinking the same thing, thinking about how fragile their dreams were. </p><p>Now wasn’t the time to force a revelation on John. </p><p>Instead, Emori let her arm brush his, enjoying the warm heat of his skin as she ate her soup. </p><p>One by one, they slowly went back to their respective bedrooms and apartments, until it was just Murphy and Emori loading the dishwasher. </p><p>“Do you want to stay?” He asked, closing the dishwasher with the back of his foot. </p><p>Emori knew she shouldn’t, that her training plan mandated 10 pm bedtime, and this day was one of the longest in recent memory. </p><p>But she did want to stay, to fix things between them. </p><p>There was also a part of her that didn’t want to be alone right now. </p><p>“Yeah, that sounds nice,” she agreed, following him into his bedroom. </p><p>The room was small, neat, his bedspread a bright orange. </p><p>There was a moment of panic as she looked between the bed and the desk chair, unsure where to sit. But frankly, beating around the bush was getting exhausting, so she perched on the end of the bed. </p><p>With a nervous smile, John settled beside her, flipping through Netflix before deciding on something mindless and funny. </p><p>The air between them was awkward now. Like neither of them knew what to do. So Emori turned her focus back onto the old Friends episode, smiling to herself as her brain settled down at the familiar scene. </p><p>They sat like that until her spot on the edge grew uncomfortable, so much so that she had no other choice but to move further onto the bed. </p><p>“I’m sorry about the way I...crumbled earlier today,” John said, drawing his lower lip between his teeth. </p><p>“Don't be. I’m glad you told me. Sometimes it feels better to just get it out,” Emori assured, finally scooting all the way back, so she was sitting beside him, her back pressed against the headboard. </p><p>“My mom called me the other day. It kind of sent me into a tailspin.” </p><p>She reached out, once again covering his hand with her own, nodding to tell him that he should continue. </p><p>“She told me she was trying to get better, get a job, and turn her life around. And, she did seem like she meant it. So I got my hopes up, started looking for tickets to fly her in to see me swim. But of course...she disappeared again,” John explained, turning his palm, so he was holding her hand. “I don’t know why this always happens. I should be smarter but, she’s all I've got left, and my dad is gone, and I don’t know how to cut off someone alive and breathing, even if she treats me like crap.” </p><p>Emori grappled with what he said, her chest tugged at his final words. They tapped something a little too close to home. She wanted to share, but she didn’t want to step over his moment. </p><p>“Sometimes the reasons people can’t be there for you don’t have to do with you at all. It has to do with them. You’re an amazing man John, one of the best I’ve ever met, and if your mom can’t see that, then she’s really missing out.” </p><p>John studied her, and it felt like his eyes were boring into her soul. </p><p>“How did you get so wise?” He asked, drawing their joint hands into his lap. </p><p>“I’m not at all. I’m terrified all the time. I don’t know—“ </p><p>“You don’t know what?” </p><p>“I don’t know how to let people in. Everyone I’ve loved has left me, either by choice or by fate. For a long time, I thought I was unlovable, but now I think I’m just unlucky.” </p><p>There was another long pause. </p><p>This wasn’t going the way she hoped. </p><p>“But I’ve been thinking a lot about something my grandpa told me right before he passed away. That losing people is part of loving them and—it’s part of what makes loving people so special. And I think—that I've gotten so caught up in protecting my heart, I stopped letting people in.” </p><p>It’s a lot. </p><p>A lot to process.</p><p>She knew this.</p><p>And even though she hasn’t intended to open this can of worms tonight. This conversation felt meaningful and important, like something that she needed to get out. </p><p>So much of her life had been spent holding things in, taking care of herself, figuring everything out on her own, it felt good, to be honest. </p><p>“I decided that I need to start giving myself a chance, and you should give yourself a chance too.” </p><p>***</p><p><br/>Murphy mulled over Emori’s words. Everything that transpired between them clicked into place. </p><p>Combined with his own revelation earlier in the day, it was overwhelming. </p><p>They were both so fucked up. </p><p>But he was pretty sure she was trying to tell him that she cared about him the same way he cared about her. </p><p>Maybe Emori was right; perhaps she was unlucky—he probably was too. </p><p>But life was short and fleeting, nothing was for sure. </p><p>He had no clue how things would go between them, whether she was his soulmate or this was a phase in his life that would leave yet another bruise. </p><p>Something in him told Murphy he had to at least try. </p><p>“You are the exact opposite of unlovable,” he said, voice barely a whisper, finger trailing down her cheek. </p><p>Her eyes widened at his admission, before fluttering shut as his finger bumped her lower lip. </p><p>“John…” </p><p>“I love it when you call me that.” </p><p>And then, they were kissing. </p><p>It was soft and careful, barely more than a peck, but it felt like a piece of his heart clicked into place. </p><p>This kiss was better than anything he could have imagined, barely a whisper but so full of heart that he could cry. </p><p>Things didn’t progress much further than that. They were both emotionally drained and out of practice. But Murphy fell asleep with Emori in his arms, his cheek pillowed on top of her head. </p><p>Right before he drifted off, he pressed a kiss to her scalp, hoping she understood how much this meant to him. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>“Fancy seeing you here,” Clarke teased, pouring an extra mug of coffee for Emori. </p><p>For the third night in a row, Emori fell asleep at John’s apartment. Honestly, she was kind of surprised that it took this long for her to run into Clarke. </p><p>“We were just sleeping,” she said, taking the cup with a grateful smile and leaning against the counter. </p><p>“Just sleeping...just studying...just friends. I’m sensing a pattern here.” </p><p>Emori blushed, covering her smile with the lip of her mug. </p><p>It was the truth. </p><p>They hadn’t done anything more than kiss. </p><p>This felt like a giant leap for both of them, and with John’s meet looming ahead, neither wanted to push things too far. </p><p>With one last slightly smug smirk, Clarke tipped her mug toward Emori and poured a second before disappearing back into Bellamy’s room. </p><p>All things considered, Emori was happy—genuinely happy and excited for the future. It wasn’t a familiar feeling, and she was worried that it would slip away just as quickly as it came, but for now, she was going to enjoy it. </p><p>And by enjoy it, she was going to bring John a cup of coffee, and they were going to snuggle for an entire hour and watch Full House before they had to go to practice. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>“Hey, I have a question for you,” Clarke said, sitting on the edge of Emori’s bed, toying with a loose thread. </p><p>“What’s up?” </p><p>“Do you want to come to watch the men’s swimming qualifiers with us? Bellamy’s sister is coming, Harper and Monty too. I have an extra spot in our room since Maya—“ </p><p>Clarke trailed off, leaving the fact that Maya didn’t need to come anymore lingering in the air. </p><p>“Anyway, I know you and Murphy aren’t like dating or anything, but I thought I would offer,” she continued, clearing her throat. “And I feel like we haven’t really gotten to spend much time together lately. It might be nice to have a sleepover? I think you’ll really like Octavia too.” </p><p>Emori paused, mulling it over. </p><p>It really did feel like she hadn’t spent time alone with Clarke in ages, and admittedly, she missed her best friend. </p><p>But she still wasn’t sure where she stood with John. They were in limbo, not wanting to dive into a relationship, but close enough that she’d spent every night for the past week snuggled into his side. </p><p>Things between them felt very fragile, very new, and unclear. </p><p>Emori’s feelings for him were strong, staggeringly so. She’s told him more about her life than almost anyone else, about her parents, about what it was like to have nobody looking out for her. </p><p>And he told her about his, his mom, how he was just as alone as she was. Maybe that’s why their connection was so strong, why Emori felt like she’d known John her entire life. </p><p>He’d spent the past eight years with nobody cheering him on. </p><p>Even if he hadn’t asked for it, she knew he deserved that, deserved to feel celebrated and appreciated and loved. </p><p>This was an opportunity, a chance to give John something he’d always missed out on. She knew better than most, what it meant to have someone cheer you on, how much it hurt to have to celebrate your victories by yourself. </p><p>If everything went as planned, she would get to congratulate him, tell him how proud she was of him, give him a supporter that was there for him first, who was standing on the sidelines for the fresh, wet, straight from the pool hug. </p><p>Clarke looked so excited, so hopeful, like a real teenager who was excited to see her boyfriend and have a sleepover with her best friend. </p><p>It was too much to pass up. </p><p>“I’d love to,” Emori smiled, sitting up just in time for Clarke to fly into her arms. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>“You guys are the actual worst,” Octavia groaned, making an overblown gagging noise as she picked carrots from a Ziploc bag. </p><p>“Diyoza will kill us if we stray off the meal plan,” Clarke shrugged, tossing a mini pack of hummus over to her. </p><p>“What’s the first thing you’re going to eat after we’re done competing?” Emori asked, careful not to speak in absolutes about the Olympics. </p><p>“Oh, fettuccine Alfredo, a steak and one of those cookies they serve you in a skillet with the ice cream on top. I already told Bellamy we’re going to a restaurant and telling them it’s my birthday, so we get one for free.” </p><p>“I’m going to go ahead and guess that he told you that was wildly unethical,” Octavia giggled, seconds before spitting a cherry tomato into a napkin. </p><p>“Absolutely. But we’re still doing it.” </p><p>They all collapsed into laughter, eating their vegetables and chatting about all the greasy, fried foods of their dreams. </p><p>Emori’s nerves melted into excitement. She couldn’t help it. The energy in this little town in Maryland was electric, news crews parked outside the aquatic center, big red, white and blue banners and balloons hanging from all the buildings. </p><p>She was so excited for John, so happy to see him finally compete for the chance to be an Olympian. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>Murphy took a deep breath through his nose, trying and failing to calm down. </p><p>It was overwhelming, the crowd, the camera crews—the looming USA Men’s Swim and Dive banner hanging on one of the walls, a stark reminder of why they were all here. </p><p>“Holy shit, Clarke and O are here,” he heard Bellamy say from somewhere behind him. </p><p>It was sweet that he was surprised. Everyone always knew that Clarke was going to come, that she would’ve moved mountains to be here today. </p><p>He was happy for his best friend, glad he had people cheering him on. </p><p>And then he turned to wave at Clarke, only to find Emori sitting right beside her. </p><p>His heart stuttered, like it momentarily forgot how to beat. </p><p>Catching his eye, she waved at him from her spot in the stands, a bright smile across her face. </p><p>With a wink, she held up a giant white poster board with his name written on it in her perfectly straight, beautiful handwriting. </p><p>Emori was here for him. Here to cheer him on. </p><p>She’s come all the way, made him one of those goofy signs, and was shaking a cowbell—all for him. </p><p>It hit him hard, the emotion of it. Nothing about it made sense, but he knew more deeply than he’d known anything in his entire life, that he was in love with her.</p><p>After what felt like a lifetime of pushing down the empty feeling of staring at a crowd and finding nobody staring back, he’d never been more grateful. </p><p>He pressed his lips to his palm and threw it out at her. It was soft and embarrassing, but Murphy couldn’t help it…Emori made him soft. </p><p>Her eyebrows lifted, and her mouth opened in shock, her cheeks tinted bright pink. But she mimed catching the kiss in her hand, drawing it to her heart. </p><p>His heart was still beating wildly, but it was decidedly less nervous now. </p><p>This was it, the moment he’d spent his entire life waiting for. Everything that happened to him led directly to this moment. </p><p>With one more deep breath, Murphy contemplated that he might not be as unlucky as he thought. How many people got to stand under the bright lights of the NBC production team, got to swim for the chance of a lifetime. And more importantly, how many people found someone like Emori, someone that made them feel more whole, more important, more loved. </p><p>Just for one day, he was a lucky man. </p><p>And it was a good day for that to happen. </p><p>In exactly fifteen minutes, he would know his fate. But either way, he would have someone to share the moment with, good or bad. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>It was a perfect, soaking wet, straight out of the pool hug. </p><p>In the middle of the hallway, a dry sob escaped from Murphy’s lips as he buried his face in Emori’s neck and lifted her off the ground from the force of his hug. </p><p>“You won the heat,” she whispered, pulling back to cup his face in her hands. </p><p>They stared at each other, both beaming, they both knew it, but it was like they didn’t want to say it out loud. </p><p>“We should wait until it’s announced. I want to say it when you have the jacket, and you’re all dry and pretty for the cameras,” she said, pushing his bangs off his forehead. </p><p>He smiled at her again, and it felt like his cheeks might crack from the force of it. </p><p>“Thank you for coming. This—this is more than I could’ve ever asked for,” he admitted, bumping their noses together. </p><p>And it was the truth. </p><p>For years, he’s been afraid of letting people in, terrified that he was going to get hurt. </p><p>And maybe that was good. </p><p>He’d spent all that time waiting. Waiting for Emori. </p><p>There was nobody else he wanted by his side, in his arms, in the stands. </p><p>She was a risk worth taking over and over and over again. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>“John Murphy, the Olympian,” Emori cheered, sitting up in bed as John stood completely naked, wearing only the red, white and blue jacket. </p><p>Her heart felt like it might burst. </p><p>She was overwhelmingly proud of him and happier than she ever could’ve imagined. </p><p>“I don’t want to take it off,” he marveled, admiring himself in the mirror. </p><p>“How much of that is the jacket, and how much of that is you just being cocky about your abs?” Emori snickered, holding her arms out for him to rejoin her. </p><p>With a soft smirk that made her stomach jolt, he slid the jacket off, letting it fall onto the floor as he fell into bed with her. </p><p>He wrapped his arms around her, framing them, so he was hovering just a breath away. </p><p>“You love my abs.” </p><p>“I absolutely do,” she agreed, tilting her chin up just enough to press a gentle kiss to his lips. </p><p>“You know, pretty soon, we’re both going to have jackets, and we’re going to get to have Olympian sex,” John continued, pecking kisses between his words. </p><p>Emori giggled, but her stomach twisted at his words. Her own Olympic meet was only a few days away, and unlike John’s, it was in Canada. </p><p>He’d offered to buy tickets to fly out to watch her, but the idea of him spending that much money for a day trip—it was too much to ask. </p><p>She knew there was only time to wait now. Nothing she did between today and the moment she stood on the diving board would change anything. </p><p>It was torture. </p><p>But at least Emori had John to distract her. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>“You’re going to be amazing,” Murphy murmured, pressing his forehead to Emori’s trying to convey in one sentence how proud he was of her, how much he cared. </p><p>Her hands slid inside his loose hoodie, sliding up his back, heating his skin. </p><p>“You really think so?” She asked, not meeting his gaze, but he could hear the nervousness in her voice. </p><p>“You already know I do, and you already know you’re amazing, you’ve never needed me to tell you that ‘Mori.” </p><p>Emori beamed at him, and it made him feel so emotional that it caught him off guard. </p><p>“See you on the other side,” she said, kissing his chest before pulling away. </p><p>With one final wave, she boarded the bus, reappearing a few minutes later in the window. </p><p>It was her turn to blow a kiss, and he caught it the same way she did—holding it to his heart. </p><p>But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t doing enough. </p><p>Having her be there for him, watching from the stands, it was the kindest and most loving thing someone had done for him since his dad passed away. </p><p>And putting Emori on the bus to send her off, didn’t feel like it did her justice. </p><p>She deserved the world, and he was going to be the one to give it to her. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>6 hours and many incognito internet searches later, Bellamy, Monty, and Murphy were on a Spirit Airlines flight to Ontario. </p><p>“If you’d told me three months ago that Murphy of all people would’ve been spearheading this operation,  I never would’ve believed you,” Monty teased, throwing a bag of peanuts across the aisle at him. </p><p>“Love changes a person,” Bellamy shrugged as he picked the bag up. “This is Spirit Airlines. I paid two dollars for these. Throw something free at him.” </p><p>They settled in for the short flight, all grateful to have a few hours of sleep after the grueling prep for trials and the stress of the girl’s qualifier. </p><p>Murphy picked at his cuticles when he woke up, staring blankly out the window. </p><p>Monty had a point. </p><p>He was always convinced that he would never fall in love, that he just didn’t have the genetic makeup for that kind of happiness. </p><p>Forever doomed to be a cynic. </p><p>Or so he thought. </p><p>But there wasn’t a single bone in his body that regretted this. </p><p>His conversation with Bellamy in the locker room felt so far away now. In what felt like seconds, he found peace in uncertainty—something he never thought possible. </p><p>The Olympics weren’t his only chance in life. He understood that now. There was a future beyond swimming, which hopefully included Emori and a full beautiful life together. </p><p>There was something so profoundly fulfilling about having someone else to look out for, someone whose needs mattered to Murphy as much as his own. </p><p>***</p><p><br/>Emori thought she must be hallucinating, dreaming maybe. </p><p>She’d just completed the dive of a lifetime, clean and perfect. </p><p>It couldn’t have gone better if she’d wanted it to, and her score reflected that. </p><p>And now, in an ugly oversized pair of sweatpants and wet hair matted to her forehead, Emori was standing directly in front of John Murphy. </p><p>He was holding an enormous bouquet of red roses, so big they barely fit in the crook of his elbow, and there was a teddy bear in the other arm. </p><p>Suddenly, Emori was whipped back to the 6th grade. Her first diving meet without her grandpa. Every other girl’s parents brought them flowers and bears and candy, and she’d awkwardly milled in the crowd, trying to hold back her tears as she made her way to the locker room. </p><p>After a lifetime of being left behind, someone came to find her. </p><p>John spent money he didn’t have to come to Canada, he’d somehow managed to find flowers and a bear, and he showed up for her. </p><p>Before she could control it, the tears started to fall—and they didn’t stop. </p><p>“You came,” she whispered, choking on a sob as she sank to the floor. </p><p>“I’ll always, always come to see you,” he said back, kneeling gently in front of her to gather her in his arms, leaving the flowers and bear on the floor beside them. </p><p>Emori felt genuinely seen for the first time in her life, and it was so overwhelming she could barely handle it. </p><p>Almost a decade later, she finally understood what her grandfather had meant. </p><p>Love like this was worth having, even if you lose it, it was too beautiful to give up on. </p><p>It felt like a blessing, like her grandpa was watching over her, like he’d guided her to this point, helped her find this happiness after so long. </p><p>“I love you,” she said into his skin, punctuating it with a kiss. </p><p>“I love you too,” he replied, pulling her in even tighter. </p><p>***</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>One Year Later </em>
</p><p>Murphy ran a hand over the gold medal around his neck, still not quite able to comprehend the gravity of it all. </p><p>John Murphy, Olympic Gold Medalist in the 100-meter butterfly. </p><p>A little long, but it had a nice ring to it. </p><p>“Checking out your reflection in the medal?” Emori asked, sitting beside him in the cramped airport chair. </p><p>Her own gold medal shone against her Team USA jacket, and seeing it gave Murphy as much satisfaction as seeing his own. </p><p>They did it. </p><p>And even better, they did it together. </p><p>With a soft smile, Emori reached out, cupping his cheek in her hand, her thumb brushing against his cheekbone, and he knew she was thinking the same thing. </p><p>Well, maybe not exactly the same thing. </p><p>Right now, all he could focus on was how much he wanted to marry her, to have her in his life forever. </p><p>But that might be a little fast, even by their standards. </p><p>“Do you guys feel weird?” Bellamy asked, flopping down across from them with Clarke in tow. </p><p>It tugged them out of their moment a little, but maybe that was for the best. It was a conversation for another day. Asking Emori to be his wife would need to happen somewhere more grand than an airport lounge. </p><p>“A little bit yeah,” Emori agreed, shifting so her back was pressed to Murphy’s chest. </p><p>“I can’t believe there’s nothing left to train for…” Murphy mused, trailing a finger down Emori’s side. It was kind of surreal, the thought that they were done. </p><p>A dream worthy of a lifetime, a dream that was now in their reality. </p><p>“What do we do with ourselves now?” Emori continued, voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. </p><p>Bellamy opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but Clarke smacked him firmly on the arm.  </p><p>“Bellamy, if you say ‘whatever the hell we want,’ I am leaving you here in Germany,” Clarke warned with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.  </p><p>They dissolved into laughter as Bellamy blushed a bright red, and at that moment, Murphy knew. </p><p>Wherever they went from here, they would be okay.  </p><p>He was wrong before. Life was better with people in your corner, people who loved you and wanted you to succeed. </p><p>That was what made all the hard work worth it. </p><p>The gold medals were just an added bonus. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I intended for this to be 5,000 words but--famous last words. A lot of heart went into this one honestly, it has it's moments but I had a great time writing it. I've been pretty uninspired lately but this was a real joy to bring to life. If someone had told me I would be writing long waxing love letters to memori last year I never would've believed it but I am a goner for this ship now. </p><p>Did I mention that I love Emori so much its actually ridiculous? She might be my favorite POV to write...def up there with Bellamy. </p><p>Anyway, I love you all so much. No matter what happens in this show, it brought me all of you and for that, I am eternally grateful. Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think :) I appreciate y'all so much, I hope you know that! &lt;3 </p><p>SO MUCH LOVE MY BABIES, take care of yourselves! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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